Welcome to Beacon Hills
by EmberoftheNight
Summary: Darcie Grant and her family move to Beacon Hills with expectations or fresh starts and a nice community. She starts school at Beacon High and meets the adorkable Stiles Stilinski.
1. Chapter 1 - First Day of School

Daylight streams in from my window, casting pale splashes of yellow around my room stacked ceiling high with boxes. It's been a few days since my family moved to Beacon Hills, but I have a talent for procrastination and only some of my clothes and books have made it out into my new room.

Sweet tangy air wafts up the creaky wooden stairs from the kitchen. My mother calls out, reminding me that I might miss my bus and that she doesn't have time to drive me to my first day at Beacon High. I sigh and tug on a pair of torn jeans and old volleyball jersey from two years ago.

"Muffins," I say happily, plopping onto the bar stool on the other side of the counter where my mother is pulling plates from the cupboards. She rolls her eyes.

"Don't be expecting royal treatment everyday." She waves the empty cardboard muffin-mix box before tossing it in recycling and sits down to her own bowl of grits and cheese. I shove a bite of warm muffin down my throat to keep from gagging. Southern people quirks had never grown on me. Mom finishes eating, blows a kiss, and leaves through the garage door, keys jangling in her hand.

I have fifteen minutes to run a brush through my hair, slip on shoes, and jog out the door to the bus stop. No matter how many schools you attend the buses are always the same annoying yellow.

High school isn't like the movies. People don't stare you down, glare, and shove backpacks into seats to keep you from sitting next to them. I slide quietly into the spot next to a blond with headphones in. The ride is uneventful, which doesn't help the queasiness rising in my gut.

Classic high school building with lacrosse fields and a running track. I find my locker and only take what I need for my first two classes into my bag. I slam the locker shut and follow the map to history class, find a seat, and open the textbook. My mind wanders from the Civil War and out the window.

"Stop staring," A voice whispers behind me. I jump and glance at the boy seated there.

"I'm not," another boy replies. His golden brown eyes glint in the sunlight and his gaze flickers to the front of the room where a gorgeous girl with auburn hair is sitting.

"You are, so stop. Your heart rate is racing."

"Scott, just because you've got mutant hearing doesn't mean-"

Scott nudges him and nods toward me. Our eyes meet and my own heart skips as I spin back into my seat, flushing. I stare at the chalk board, silently cursing my stupidity, until class is over and people begin to shuffle out the door. I dodge out the door, ducking my head until I'm out and in the hallway. I keep walking. I can't figure out why I reacted like that. Two guys joking around. Gold eyes and adorable moles. I shake my head frustratingly and push the thoughts away.

I don't see them again until lunch, where I sit at an empty table in the farthest corner. People don't bother me, in fact I love being around people, but I just don't go out of my way to socialize. From my table I can see every student as they pass through the doors. The two boys are grinning and messing around like best friends do. The one, Scott, is tall and moderately toned, with dark hair and eyes and skin. His friend, the infatuated one, is slightly shorter and pale and twiggy. His crush is in the room, laughing prettily with a jock by her side, and his eyes seem pained to look away. I shovel mush into my mouth and observe them. The bell rings and I dump the tray into the garbage.

There is another new girl in Beacon High today. Her name is Allison. She has beautiful dark hair and fair skin. We talk a bit in the hallway at the end of the day, since our lockers are near each other. I feel a connection with her, this kindred spirit that knows the pain of moving around constantly, and am about to ask where she lives when the auburn-haired girl and her arm candy approach us - or Allison, to be exact. They don't even look at me, so I slip away. Let Allison have her popularity; no use pouting about it. Beautiful people like to be around beautiful people.

I turn the corner and ram into something warm and solid.

"Oh! Sorry!" says a familiar voice. I push back, dazed, and meet Scott's eyes.

"My fault," I reply, apologizing.

"You're new, right?"

I nod and look at his friend, whose heading is tilted, attention on the group in the hall. This close, I notice the cute way his nose is pushed upward.

"Oh, hey," Scott says, startling me from my daydream. "I'm Scott, this is Stiles." Stiles turns at his name, finally noticing me.

"Darcie," I reply. Stiles' eyes are unfocused and he turns back toward the hallway where Allison is making her new acquaintances.

"Cool," Scott grins like an adorable puppy. "See you around." I glance at Stiles, who is peering around the corner again, and nod before walking away. I don't get far before Stiles speaks, stopping me in my tracks.

"Can you hear what they're saying?"

"Yeah," Scott says. "Lydia is inviting her to a party."

I turn around, confused. Scott is leaning slightly toward the hall, head tilted sideways, Stiles at his shoulder.

"Gah, I love this werewolf thing." Stiles hits Scott's shoulder.

I frown. Werewolf thing? What the actual heck are they going on about? They're whispering now, so I shake my head and walk away. In the last few places I've lived, boys never gave me the time of day, so to speak. Apparently guys are stranger than I originally thought. Werewolves indeed. This isn't freaking Twilight.


	2. Chapter 2 - Fancy a party?

**Hey everyone! This is my first fanfic, so I'm still "learning the ropes". Please forgive the last chapter. I haven't watched season one in a long time and this fic won't be in order...at all. So, bear with me, and thanks for reading.**

**I think we all know I don't own Teen Wolf.**

* * *

><p>"That was pretty amazing, Scott," I raise my eyebrows and laugh. "Like, super freaking amazing."<p>

Scott smiles sheepishly and glances to where Allison is sitting in the front of the classroom. She must have felt his gaze on her, because she looks back and blushes when their eyes meet. I grin and shake my head. They are so adorable. Stiles catches my attention with a snort.

"That was more than amazing, that was...it was-"

"Stilinski!" Coach yells from the chalkboard. "Have something to share with the class?"

"Not anything that should be repeated in public, Coach," Stiles replies, smirking. I huff a quick laugh and cover my mouth. Coach simply rolls his eyes and continues with the lesson.

Stiles raises his eyebrows at me and I roll my eyes as well, turning away and lending my (only slightly divided) attention to the string of words flowing from Coach's loud mouth.

Class ends and Scott bolts up to talk to Allison in the hallway. I gather up my things and start to leave, but Stiles taps my arm.

"You friends with Allison?"

I blink. "Not really. Do I look like her and Lydia?" Stiles frowns and his eyes scan me quickly. I curse myself for my poor choice of words. "Sure. We get along fine. Why do you ask?"

"Just curious-"

"This is about Lydia's party on Friday, isn't it?"

He scoffs, then lowers his head. "Maybe?" He peers up at me with big brown puppy eyes, stealing a heartbeat right from my chest. I clear my throat.

"Uh, okay," I scramble for words. "If I get invited I'll let you know, and you go instead of me, or something."

"Why would you do that?" He frowns.

"Does it matter? You can go make dove eyes at the love of your life. At her house. For a whole night. Don't complain, Stilinski-"

"We'd just go together, okay? And please, don't call me that. You sound like them."

My chest pounds. "Together?"

"Not 'together' together, no, I meant just, you know," he groans. "I'm just saying we don't have to both miss the social event of the season."

"If either of us are even invited…"

"Right."

* * *

><p>Friday morning I am walking to Geometry class, when Allison shouts my name.<p>

"Darcie! Hey, wait up!" She skips over to me and I can help but smile at her joyful countenance.

"Yeah?"

"So, listen. I'm sorry we haven't talked in a while, but I think you're really cool."

"Thanks?" I laugh. She punches my shoulder lightly.

"Thing is, there's a party tonight…" _Lydia's party. Was this really happening? _"And she said I could bring a few people." Allison smiles expectantly. My mind reels. It was actually happening.

"Uh…"

"Can you come? Say yes, I'm not that comfortable around all Lydia's friends yet and it'd be great if you came."

"Can I bring someone?" I say, stomach flipping.

"Of course! Great, see you tonight!" She waves happily and scampers off to her next class, leaving me dumbstruck.

"Fancy a party tonight, Stilinski?" I had been gathering up the courage all morning, working out a casual way to ask it. He jumps up from from the lunch table where he's sitting with Scott and grabs my shoulders, sending tingles down my arms.

"You serious?!" I give a small nod and he pulls me into a bear hug. I can't breath.

"Stiles!" I shout, muffled into his shirt. He pulls back, suddenly embarrassed. Scott is watching us, confused and amused.

"I probably could've gotten you invited, if I had known how desperate you both are."

"I'm not desperate-" I begin.

"It wouldn't have worked, Scott." Stiles shrugs. "You're not 'in' enough...yet."

"Yet," I agree.

"Yet?" Scott laughs, incredulous.

"Dude," Stiles says, hitting Scott's head roughly. "Once you are dating a popular, then you, in turn, are one of them." Scott grins, lop-sided and foolishly, and looks at me. I shrug in agreement and he settles down contentedly to his lunch.

* * *

><p><strong>Stiles Stilinski<strong>

_**How are we supposed to be dressing for this thing?**_

**Darcie, like I know. Ask a girlfriend, not a dude.**

_**Right, srry.**_

**Ally**

_**Dress?**_

**Whatever, I think! Casual?**

I sigh aloud. Casual for Lydia and Allison doesn't even exist in my closet.

_**K thx! See you soon :)**_

**Yep! :)**

In the end I grab my nicest jeans and a loose fitting tank top, grunting to myself the whole time. My bland, pale face screams out to me in the mirror, so I oblige with some mascara and a smear of gloss. I purse my lips at my reflexion. This is as good as it's ever going to get.

My mom is sitting on the couch, 'reading'. I grab a jacket from the coat closet and join her on the couch.

"Who is this boy again?"

"Just a friend, mom."

"Right, yeah…" I can tell she is about to give the routine sex warning. Thankfully the doorbell rings and I jump up.

"That's him," I swoop down and kiss her cheek. "I'll be good, promise."

"I know you will," she sighs. "Be back by twelve."

"Will do." I salute jokingly and shout "Love you!" as I fling open the door. Stiles is standing on the welcome mat, hands in pockets. The chilly air nips at the back of my neck.

"Ready?" He asks nervously.

"Stop shaking, Stilinski. It's just Lydia; the perfect, gorgeous, intelligent girl you've loved for so many years."

He glares at me. "Thanks for that."

"Anytime," I grin back. He groans, trampling down the steps and to his baby blue jeep.

* * *

><p>We have to park about a block away and walk together in the breezy night. We don't speak, and I can tell he is having a hard time walking. We finally get to the house. Music is blasting through the windows and I can see from where we stand that this will be a tight fit. Some people are even hanging out on the yard instead of the crowded house.<p>

"Deep breaths, Stiles. In and out...In and out-"

"Not helping," he says through clenched teeth. I grab his arm and guide him up the yard, up the steps, and into the fiery furnace. I notice that almost everyone has a cup of what most likely is alchohol.

"Okay," I grab his shoulders so that we're face to face. "I'm going to get us some drinks to calm you down. Loosen up, mingle," He glances around the room. "And don't go looking for Scott. He's here with Allison, not you. Deal with it." Auburn hair flashes in my periphery and I turn Stiles in the other direction. "Stay."

The kitchen is full of kids pressed into each other, kissing, tongues in mouths. I push through and fill two cups. A blonde guy comes up behind me and touches my butt. I slap his hand away. "Back off." He does, moving on to the next girl.

Stiles is right where I left him, dancing embarrassingly by himself. I rush over. "Oookaayy, you definitely need this." I hand him the cup and he gulps down a swig.

"I'm going to do it," he says, nodding to himself. "I'm going to tell her."

"Maybe you don't afterall," I say, snatching the cup away. "Don't even think about that. She doesn't even know your name. To her, you're just some hormonal guy that daydreams about her in bed." Stiles purses his lips.

"Then what am I doing here?"

"You're here to party," I say loudly, over the music. "Mingle with the popular kids, make yourself known. You're here, so you must be on their level, right?"

"But, I'm not-"

"They don't know that," I say, gesturing to the clusters of people.

"Okay." He cracks his neck, wiggles his shoulders, and takes a deep breath. "I got this. I got this."

"Yep, you're quite the killer, now go-" He grabs my hand and pulls me into the thrumming group of people. I am too shocked to pull away, and now we are pressed against each other in the middle of the beast. "What are you doing?!" I shout. He flinches, rubbing his ear.

"Dancing!" He places his hands awkwardly on my hips and tries to find the rhythm of the people around us. I stand uncomfortably still as he sways and moves. Don't get me wrong; I love to dance and party, but having him so close was making my head spin. My heart is thumping wildly in my chest and the crowd seems to close in around us until there isn't even an inch of space between us. His eyes are on the room as he dances, oblivious to my stare. Sweat beads at his hairline and his hands on my waist get hot. There's no way for me to get out of this without injuring myself or others in the process, so I decide to just go with it. I match his rhythm, however off it might be, and lose myself in his touch. I wrap my arm around his neck, closing my eyes. His hands drop suddenly, and I look to see him staring at me blankly. Without a word he backs up, pushing through the crowd, and leaves me alone, confused and cursing my stupidity.


End file.
